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We are absolutely unhinged about organization up here on the ridge. Not in a scary way—unless you count color-coded, alphabetized spice racks and a label maker named Sheila as scary. It’s partly just our aesthetic. We like things neat, tidy, and slightly terrifying to normal people. Also, as an ADHD girl, organization keeps my brain from short-circuiting every time I open a drawer. Chaos is cute until you can’t find your pants. But organization is a strange beast. The system that seems perfectly logical to you might look like pure anarchy to me—and vice versa.
Throughout my career, I witnessed the blood sport known as “filing system wars.” One coworker sorted files alphabetically by surname with zero regard for date—pure madness. The next insisted on filing by year first, then alphabetizing within the year. It was a miracle no one filed under “P” for “Please stop.”
I saw an at-home version of this recently when I opened my hall closet in front of a friend. She didn’t say anything, but her silence screamed, “Do you need help?”
The closet holds your typical household items: cleaning supplies, a dustbuster, a vacuum, a small arsenal of brooms… and, okay, a leaf blower. Yes. In the hall closet. Next to the Swiffer like it’s just another mild-mannered domestic tool.
To outsiders, this might seem odd. But the TRR acreage is basically a deciduous forest’s version of Times Square. During fall, our porches are covered in leaves—dramatic, slippery, stain-leaving leaves. We have a big industrial leaf blower for the yard, but I keep a smaller one inside for porch duty.
It’s part of our “simplify” goals here at TRR. And nothing says simplicity like a two-leafblower household.